


The Intriguing Case of the Mysterious Invoice

by MrsNefretEmerson



Series: The Flea Flicker Pass [2]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: DC/Marvel crossover, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Phone Calls, inter-departmental warfare, ridiculous amounts of good luck, so many, tam fox is spoiler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNefretEmerson/pseuds/MrsNefretEmerson
Summary: Something's rotten in the accounting department of Stark Industries and Tim Drake, personal assistant extraordinaire, is going to get to the bottom of it, hopefully without sacrificing his secret identity. He's got the Gotham girl gang, a bald ex-assassin, a sneaky asset in billing, and a terrifying secretary. Hydra doesn't stand a chance, but only if Tony Stark doesn't show up for work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> While this story does stand on it's own, 'The Adventure of Red Robin and Tony Stark' provides some background. If you recognize the characters, they're not mine.

The Hydra agent in accounting was beginning to be a massive annoyance for Timothy Drake-Wayne. It had been a herculean task, but Tim had gotten Stark’s expense reports and receipts turned in at precisely eleven fifty one and they had been perfect. He had the triplicate to prove it. This time the evil accountant had bitten off more than he could chew. This time the power of efficient bureaucracy would defeat the forces of evil. Red Robin didn’t need a cape to be a superhero he just needed the appropriate paperwork. With a vicious yank, he tied off the battered yellow interoffice mail envelope and stamped it emphatically Confidential. If the agent was going to take advantage of all the new-fangled technology and ‘not receive’ a properly addressed email, Tim was going to go old-school.

  
A buzz on the intercom interrupted his plans of red ink and vengeance. “Ms. Doris, what can I do for you?”

  
“Call on line two for you. Some nitwit from billing droning on about an incorrectly formatted invoice. I told him you were on a call. You’ve got about five minutes before you’ve got to pick up.”

  
“Thanks Ma’am. Appreciate it.” Tim slumped dejectedly in his outrageously expensive spinney chair, perfectly molded to accommodate his body after a particularly rough night. It was eight-thirty. Too damn early to go to war with interdepartmental foolishness. He hadn’t even submitted an invoice in the past three days. Maybe there were Hydra agents in billing too. It wouldn’t be surprising. He buzzed Olga in secretarial.

  
“What do you want Drake?” She sounded especially pissed off. Excellent.

  
“I’ve got an urgent task for you. Can you run a package over to accounting?”

“That’s what courier is for Drake.”

“I’m pretty sure Roberts has paid ‘em all off and I don’t have time to deal with HR this morning. I’ll take you to lunch.”

There was some audible grumbling. “I’ll be right over, but it had better be a damn good lunch.”

“Thanks Olga. See you in a bit.” Tim stared at the blinking red light mocking him from his desk phone. It was time to stand up to injustice and tyranny. It was time to do battle with billing. “Good Morning. Drake-Wayne speaking.” It was always good to start off with a display of unassailable dominance.

“Ah, Timothy, my good man. It’s Albert from billing.”

“Yes Albert, what can I do for you? Doris said something about the formatting on an invoice?”

“Ah. Yes. You sent an invoice in yesterday on behalf of Mr. Stark for, and I quote, ‘Services Rendered: Stripping, Exotic Dancing, and Balloon Art.’ It’s addressed to the Sweetly Sainted Home for Elderly Holy Sisters.”

Tim didn’t exactly know what to do with that information. He recovered himself swiftly. He’d been thoroughly trained in crisis management and emotional repression by the Batman. He had this. “Yes. Yes. I can see how that would be a problem, but I’m positive that I sent no invoices in over the last several days and I’m certain that Stark performed no such services. If he were to do something so colossally stupid, he’d have bragged about it first.”

“It arrived yesterday around eight in the evening via interdepartmental mail. It has your signature. The services are recorded to have been performed Tuesday night. Where was Stark?”

Tim felt a massive headache coming on. “You know what Albert, why don’t you bring it on up here and we’ll figure out what’s going on. I’ve got a meeting at eleven with Events and a lunch appointment at twelve thirty, but we can talk for an hour or two now.”

“I’ve got a meeting with Accounting at ten, but we ought to be done by then. I’ll be right up.”

“Excellent. And Albert?”

“Yes, Timothy?”

“Don’t let anyone else see that invoice. You know it’ll be in the paper in twenty and Lord knows we don’t need the Board getting ahold of it.”

“Of course Timothy. I understand.”

Accounting. Of course Accounting was involved somehow. There was a Hydra agent in Accounting. His phone buzzed again. “Yes Ms. Doris?”

“Olga from secretarial is here. Are you available?”

“Yes. Yes of course. She’s expected. Show her in.”

The door opened, revealing six feet of eternally angry Slovak. The heels added an extra four inches, a tight bun and a severely tailored pantsuit completed the image.

“What do you require Drake? I’m on a tight schedule.”

“Accounting ‘misplaced’ the expense reports I sent in last night. I’m fairly sure it was Perth, but I wouldn’t put it past Roberts. He hates my guts. I’ve got them all here and I need them to be physically logged as arriving.”

A vindictive gleam appeared in Olga’s eyes along with the barest trace of a smile. She had extreme dislike for Roberts and his entire department, the source of which Tim had never been able to uncover, but she made for an excellent ally in the fight against evil accountants. "Of course Drake. It would be my pleasure, but lunch had still better be delicious.”

“Does the Bird’s Nest sound alright?”

“Naturally. I take lunch at twelve thirty precisely. I expect you to not be late.”

“I’ll make the reservations for quarter till. Meet you in the atrium.”

Olga swept out of his office, paperwork in hand. Tim had ten minutes probably until Albert showed up, which he used to figure out where Tony had been Tuesday night. Stark’s calendar read 'concert, seven.' There were no additional details. It was beginning to look very bad, and the boss-man didn’t usually get in till noon at the earliest, so interrogations would have to wait. Maybe Pepper would know. Except she was on an exceedingly important business trip in Brussels and shouldn’t be interrupted. That left one option. It was time to call the scene of the crime.

“The Sweetly Sainted Home for Elderly Holy Sisters. This is Victoria speaking, how may I help you?”

“This is Martin Blackthorn from the East Village neighborhood community support center calling to follow up on a voice complaint we received Tuesday night regarding your facility. We’ve never had an issue with your home, so this is probably a misunderstanding, but would you mind letting us know what was going on Tuesday evening?”

“Oh certainly. We had the staff party and the absolute best Tony Stark impersonator, I’m sure you don’t need to know what he got up to.” Victoria was irritatingly giggly.

Tim was going to have a heart attack. This was supposed to be a relaxing break from world save-age and superheroing. This though, this was a catastrophe. “May I ask how you ended up choosing your entertainment for the night?”

“Oh, it was advertised in the Good Times in Assisted Living periodical we got a few months back and it seemed like such a good idea. We took up a special collection for it even and hired a professional videographer. We’ll email you a copy of the video when we get it.”

“That. That would be wonderful Victoria. It would be very helpful in clearing up this mess. I’ll give you the appropriate email address right away.” Not even in his blackest, most desperate nightmares had Tim imagined that the Hydra agent in accounting could be this devious. The media fallout. The papal response. The shame. He’d have to resign. What sort of good PA allowed his boss to perform exotic dances in a facility for elderly nuns? A terrible one. But this terrible PA was far from helpless. He had contacts. He wasn’t just some spoiled rich kid, he was a feared vigilante, a fully trained protégé of the bat. It was going to be fine.

His phone buzzed.

“Yes Ms. Doris?”

“There’s an Albert from Accounting here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Yes it is indeed urgent. Send him on in and send a pot of coffee in too. The good stuff. And some pastries.”

“Are you alright? Do I need to add some Bailey’s to the tray?”

“Very thoughtful, but I need my wits about me. We’re going to have a disaster. Batten down the hatches Ms. Doris and stockpile office supplies. It’s a doozy.”

“Very well. Albert is on his way in.”

Tim hardly had time to pull himself together to pull himself together before Albert was standing before his desk.

“I’m probably not supposed to say it, my good sir, but you look like hell Timothy.”

“I feel like hell, Albert. Let’s see the damning evidence.”

The invoice was promptly produced and it was awful.

“You said you got this via interdepartmental mail and not email?”

“I did think that was a trifle strange. You never send things by courier if an email will work. Everyone knows about your feud with the runners. But then I saw the actual invoice and thought that maybe you had wanted to keep the information out of the servers.”

“Yes. Well. I wasn’t even here after six yesterday. I left at a reasonable time to see a film with a friend. This invoice did not come from my desk, despite the signature.”

“If it came by mail and this isn’t really your signature, then I smell espionage.”

“Yes,” said Tim, head in his hands. “Take a seat. This’ll be a while.”

Albert sat. “If this is just a forged invoice, we can simply shred it and that will be the end of it. This need not be anything more than a juvenile prank.”

“It is more is the problem. I called the Sweetly Sainted Home for Elderly Holy Sisters and the staff did indeed hire a remarkably authentic Tony Stark impersonator for the staff’s holiday office party.”

“Oh. Oh dear man, that is terrible. Whatever will you do?”

“I know everyone thinks my fight with accounting is typical interdepartmental infighting, but I do have an actual reason for it all.”

“This had better be good. I’ve a decent sum of money riding on this explanation.”

“Albert my friend, this cannot go any further than the two of us. Even,” Tim’s face became noticeably pinched, “to win some corporate betting pool.”

Albert’s face fell. “It’s serious then?”

“Very. There’s at least one enemy agent in the ranks of the accountants and my money’s on Perth, and possibly Roberts but he might just be a dick.”

“Enemy agents? In Accounting?”

“I’m afraid so, but I’ve got contacts and the semblance of a plan. I’ve got lunch with Olga-“

“From Secretarial?”

“Yes. I’m recruiting her for the cause against our evil co-workers and I know some people who can help clean this up, but I’m afraid that this office is going to become the base of operations for our spy-busting offensive. Can I count on your help?”

“Timothy, it would be my extreme pleasure. I haven’t engaged the enemy since Vietnam and the accommodations here are far nicer than they were over there. These people you know….”

“Can be relied on utterly, but they’re Gotham connections and thus a bit disreputable.”

“Ah. I understand. What do I say to the accounting folks in a bit? I’m fairly certain Perth’s going to be there.”

“Use their own plays against them. You never received this invoice and have no idea what they’re talking about. If they wonder what we talked about…. tell them it was about the Holiday Ball and our surprise musical guest.” Tim dug around a bit. “The envelope contained your suggestions about the program.” He produced a selection of mix-tapes from the bottom drawer of the desk. “Congratulations on your wonderful taste in music.” Tim filled the yellow envelope with ancient cassettes from Dick’s disco days and locked the invoice up securely. “Good luck in your meeting Albert. May the Force be with you.”

Albert snapped off a crisp salute and dashed out the door just as Doris showed up with the refreshment tray.

“This is the best thing I’ve seen all day Ms. Doris. Just set it here.”

As Doris made her way back out, Tim stopped her. “Hold on one second, I’ve got to give you a word of warning. I’m serious about there being a train wreck coming down the tracks. There’s an internal conspiracy to destroy Stark in the middle of Ms. Potts’ negotiations with the E.U. and it’s all falling into place as we speak.”

“Is there anything I can do? I won’t be having fools destroy my career. Or yours for that matter. You’re a good kid.”

“Just let me know all the office gossip out of Accounting. All of it. And at least try to be civil towards Olga. She’s been very helpful.” Tim didn’t have much hope on that front. Rumor had it that back when the two of them had worked together in the typists pool in advertising, Olga had jammed the copier in the middle of a mail out and stuck it on Doris. Doris had never gotten over the sharp sting of betrayal.

Doris gave him a cool look. “The phone’s ringing, I’d better go answer it.” The phone was not ringing, but Tim let her go anyway. He had a meeting with Events to prepare for.

The meeting with Events, while not the worst thing that had happened to him that day, was certainly not the best either.

“I’m just sayin’ that we’re Stark Industries and we need an A-list musical act. Like, Rick Astley just isn’t going to cut it.” The speaker, a lovely woman dressed head to toe in Ralph Lauren, was making some very good points, but…

“Sophie,” said Tim firmly, “I’m refusing to be assimilated. I don’t care how cool her squad is, we’re not inviting Taylor Swift.”

“Thank-you. Thank-you. I’ve been saying that for the past three days, but has she listened? Nooooo. No she hasn’t. The only practical choice for this whole thing is the Black Eyed Peas.”

“Thank-you for your input Gordon, but I don’t think that that’s going to go over very well.” Tim was beginning to seriously wonder just how these people had ended up in in Events. Gordon was fifty something and completely clueless about current music trends, as his input had proved, and Sophie was every west-coast stereotype rolled into one.

“Alexa, what were you thinking?”

“So, we don’t want to look like we’re trying too hard, so Beyoncé is out and like I eighties rock as much as the next dude, but aging rockers aren’t the aesthetic we’re looking for. And the other day Paul was going on and on about Elton John, but he’s just so tired, so no. We need to keep it fresh you know? So I was thinking that we headline with Bruno Mars, but mix in Stevie Nix for some eclecticism. “

There was a palpable sense of relief in the room. Tim knew he liked Alexa for a reason. “Good thought. Good thought. I approve. Get the ball rolling. And Alexa?”

“Yeah boss?”

“Congratulations on the promotion to project head.”

“Me? Dude. Awesome.”

“Yeah awesome. You’re all making me feel old.”

“Boss-man, you’re like not even twenty. You’re still cool, even if you’re short and totally a plant for Wayne Enterprises. Like it’s not even subtle.”

“Alexa?”

“Yeah?”

“I just promoted you. I can still take it back.”

“Yes’sir boss-man. Come on minions. You’re my minions now, you gotta do what I say. We’ve got a shindig to plan.”

It wasn’t even noon and Tim was already exhausted. The next six hours stared him down implacably. He heaved a great sigh and started a search for the last several months’ worth of the Good Times in Assisted Living periodical. It was incredibly illuminating, but mostly irrelevant to his research. ‘Help This Creepy Old Dude Stares at My Ass While I Help Him Eat Dinner and He’s Not Even Rich’ was hilarious, but it wasn’t personal ads on behalf on Stark. He eventually found what he was looking for in between articles on ‘How to Make Those Waist High Parachute Pants Look OK’ and ‘Tips on Pureeing Pizza without Puking.’ The ad copy wasn’t even trying to be subtle. ‘Lift up any party with the ultimate Tony Stark impersonator! He dances! He bumps! He grinds! He does balloon art!’ The accompanying image was of a comely nurse in scrubs ignoring a leering elderly man in favor of swooning in the arms of a waxed gym rat with perfectly sculpted facial hair and a G-string.

He picked up his personal cell-phone without really thinking. “Babs? Yeah, it’s Tim. Listen I need a really big favor. I’ve got a lunch appointment I can’t miss, but I really need a full background check on some shady characters.”

“So the relaxing corporate job isn’t going as planned I take it?”

“No. Not really. There’s a Hydra agent in accounting I’m pretty sure, but I’m only Tim Drake here and Tim Drake isn’t supposed to know things about espionage, or Hydra, and is really not supposed to know anything about SHIELD.”

Barbara’s amused snort was clearly audible. “Yeah. No. You’re supposed to be some rich brat with some passable business sense. Who am I looking up?”

“They’re both in accounting in Stark Industries: Igor Maxwell Perth and James Michael Roberts. I’m going to need any information you can dig up on the ad I’m sending you now.” There was a pause as she studied the incredible image.

“You sure this ad isn’t some kind of elaborate joke?”

“It’s been getting terrifyingly real. I might need some back-up. How’s Steph’s schedule look?”

“Pretty open, but I’ve got to warn you, she’s training a new Spoiler.”

Tim experienced an extreme sinking feeling in his stomach. “Tam, yeah?

“Yup,” came the cheery reply.

“Fish-sticks. You just love to see me suffer, don’t you?”

“Don’t take it personally. But with Batgirl it’s kind of a two-for one deal. And Cass is back in from Hong Kong so it’s more like a three-for one kind of deal.”

Well, Tim thought, he’d wanted back-up. “Yeah, sure. Send ‘em all on over. You know where I live.” He really hoped the New York apartment was up to hosting the Gotham girl gang. He checked the time.

“Shit. Hey Babs, gotta go, I’ve got lunch with a terrifying woman named Olga in five and I really don’t want to be late.” He hung up to the sound of laughter.

He was presentable and his hair was mostly straight. On a whim he grabbed the batons out of the hidden bin in his floor and shoved them into the special pockets in his overcoat. When he got down to the atrium at exactly half past, Olga was just arriving. He offered her his arm and they stepped out into the brisk autumn day. The Bird’s Nest was less than a block away so the walk over was leisurely, most likely more out of respect for Tim’s short legs than because Olga wanted to enjoy the ambiance. She made excellent conversation the whole the way there, but as soon as drinks were ordered, Olga changed the topic abruptly.

“I am concerned,” she said, “that there is something very wrong going on down in accounting. Understand that when I say this it is not because I hate the very air that Roberts breathes, but because I have seen things. I have seen things that strike me as very fishy.”

Tim was more than a little shocked; he’d had a whole speech planned out. He realized that he was gaping like a fish and promptly closed his mouth.

“You are shocked that there are villainous people in Accounting? I am surprised. I thought you had a famous feud with them.”

“Yes, yes I do have a famous feud with Accounting but mostly I was planning on telling you the same thing.”

“Brilliant, so we are on the same page. Yes?” Tim nodded.

“Excellent. While I do not like Roberts, I think the evil accountant is Perth. If you would like, I will assassinate him directly.”

Tim had the distinct feeling that he was no longer in control of the situation. “I don’t think that it is entirely necessary for you to assassinate him. He might be part of a larger conspiracy and that would be irresponsible.”

Olga’s face fell. “I was the youngest of six girls, each one of us more lovely than the last everyone always said, but we all knew Evangi was the most beautiful of all. And everyone else did too, so we all had to know how to ensure her safety and our own. None of us have died, but some of us have wished to and sometimes Perth makes me feel as though I ought to finally. I will not have that. I will kill him instead of me any day.”

Olga’s hatred of Accounting made perfect sense and if she was trusting him with that extremely personal information, Tim had some for her.

“Would you like to do a secret for a secret?”

She perked up again, her severe face relaxing a bit. “I love secrets. I am the youngest, so I keep a great many. Yours will be perfectly safe.”

“Have you heard of the thing in Gotham that some call the Bat?”

“The Bat? Yes I have heard some small things about the creature, but everyone says it’s a legend. Some desperate ploy by the GCPD to terrify the criminal element. Some also say there’s a laughing demon bird that follows in its wake that laughs like some weird variation of that dreadful Joker.”

“His proper name is the Batman and the laughing demon bird is called Robin. I-. I trained with the Batman, extensively, and for years I was Robin’s best friend. My friend has a new name now. They call him Red Robin.”

“Red Robin?” exclaimed Olga. “That is the name of the mysterious person who rescued Tony Stark from the useless AIM people.”

“That was supposed to be a secret!”

“Pshaw. Stark couldn’t even keep his own identity under wraps. What made you think the tale of his heroic rescue wouldn’t leak out?”

“I guess I didn’t,” admitted Tim, “but I was thinking that it wouldn’t end up as common knowledge.”

“I wouldn’t say common knowledge,” responded Olga. “I am just very, very good at listening and sometimes people overlook me.”

Tim looked her up and down pointedly.

“I may be very tall and have cheekbones that Captain America himself would die for, but I can be very unobtrusive. It was exhausting sometimes, being the most beautiful person in the room.”

“I have brother who I think you would get along with wonderfully you know.”

“Oh? Is he stunningly handsome too?”

“Yes, you might have seen Dick Grayson in the magazines. He periodically beats out Tony for best smile, which in my house is generally considered to be hilarious.”

“Ha! Grayson. Yes. My sister Maria was in love with him for years, but me? No not me. He has the wrong parts, although he is very look-looking.”

Tim snorted inelegantly. “That’s what everyone says. But, there is business to discuss.”

“Hm. Yes. Business. I am thinking that I will tell you what I saw in Accounting. It was yesterday rather late, probably around nine at night and most reasonable people were no longer in the department, but I had had an appointment with Stevens and it went a bit long. Anyway I was leaving but remembered suddenly that I had lent a book to that Emily woman and went down to pick it up and that was when I saw Perth taking many pictures of documents in Robert’s desk. He had a flash drive as well, but I did not see what he did with it.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“No. I didn’t have my phone and Perth, Perth scares me sometimes. I’d rather not talk about it to be honest.”

“I have a very good source tracking down information on both Perth and Roberts as we speak. From what you are saying, it is possible that Perth is investigating Roberts for different reasons than we seem to think. We may have it backwards, but I don’t think so.”

The server was suddenly at their table removing plates and silverware and another swept in imperiously to drop fresh utensils. Tim and Olga were both thoughtfully silent until their entrees were dropped.

“I know that there is at least one Hydra agent down there. I had gotten some information from a very reliable source that someone nefarious was employed in that department, and then I started seeing the odd things. There was something especially disturbing this morning.”

“I thought there must have been. You were even more worked up than usual.”

Tim gave her a rapid run down of the events of the day.

“You are correct. That is a disaster waiting to happen. Actually it is not even waiting to happen. It is happening.”

“I agree. Which is why I have called in reinforcements. They’ll be in New York shortly.” Tim’s phone vibrated: an email from Albert. “Sorry, I’ve got to read this. It may be vital.”  
It was indeed vital. He had written an incredibly lengthy report on the meeting. Perth had apparently heard through the grapevine that Albert had gotten a late evening delivery and needed to know if the contents required any tweaking of the monthly budget. Albert had assured Perth that there had been nothing consequential in the package, merely some gag gifts from Stark’s odd new assistant. “He was extremely insistent that the contents be examined thoroughly as he had been assured that the information contained therein was very important and might be a game changer ahead of the E.U. negotiations,” wrote Albert. “I obviously brought him the envelope with the cassettes for him to peruse and he insisted on playing every one. I certainly admire your taste in humor, but I’m afraid Perth didn’t. He accepted the whole thing fairly well in public, but I’m not sure he bought it.”

Tim read the whole thing out to Olga who looked appropriately disturbed.

“All of our efforts to calm this down and pull the wool over Perth’s eyes will do nothing for the video footage that those women in the home have shortly. It will go all over the internet and we won’t be able to contain it.” Olga’s statement was logical, but rather depressing.

“I’ve got a plan though,” said Tim. His phone lit up again. “It’s Doris. Stark isn’t coming in today. Some classified bullshit with the Avengers.”

“I’m surprised he’s even physically capable of doing the flying thing this early in the day considering the pap photos from last night. I didn’t know swimming pools could be used like that.”

“I hate to say it, but I did know. My father’s Bruce Wayne after all. The amount of mental scarring that I have… Well let’s just say my family provoked therapy bill is a thing of beauty.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” laughed Olga. “Now, I must be sure I understand. Your friend, this Red Robin man, will be taking care of Perth and you have a plan to manage the fallout. This is correct? Because if you need someone assassinated, I would love to be at your service.”

“Yes, he’s taking care of it and he’s got a great many friends to help him out with the dirty work. If it comes down to an assassination, I will indeed keep you in the front of my mind.”

They wrapped up their lunch and meandered back to the office.

“It was a lovely lunch Mr. Drake. Thank you very much.”

“Despite the conversation?”

“Even the conversation,” she corrected. “Have fun storming the castle.”

The difference between Brucie and Tony, reflected Tim, was that Brucie was mostly a construct, an exaggeration, while Stark’s public persona was irritatingly genuine. Bruce Wayne certainly enjoyed life and was a very real person, but very few people ever saw him. There were probably significant psychological issues that came with living with a parent with multiple personalities, but Tim didn’t really wish to mess with them. Stark might be an irresponsible idiot sometimes, but he was cute, likeable even, so Tim was going to get this whole thing cleaned up. Call it an early Christmas present.

He got back to his office with minimal interruptions, hung his coat, and deposited his cane in its special holder. The knee brace might have disappeared a month ago, but the cane was just good public relations. Tim had a reputation to save, some intricate counter-espionage to plan, and an actual job to do.

Just because the rest of the day had been shit didn’t mean that Tim really thought that it was supposed to get worse, but really, strange men in funky helmets assaulting him in the stairwell of the parking deck at the end of the day wasn’t something he had anticipated having to deal with. He took one out with a well place hit to the groin: the cane was proving to be very useful, and his idiot attackers didn’t seem to be wearing cups. He saw a man preparing to jump him from higher up the stairs, but couldn’t really do anything about it except brace for impact. Tim went down strategically and without much damage save for being crushed slowly to death by his enormous attacker. The body on top of his allowed Tim a moment to pull the batons out of his coat without being seen by the others and when the dude squashing him finally rolled off, Tim was ready.  
Twenty seconds later all seven of the goons were down, unconscious, and zip-tied. Tim had no idea what to do with them. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do what he had just done. Tim Drake and his self-defense training might be able to hold out for the cavalry, but they couldn’t end the fight. And leaving criminals tied up in the stairwell wasn’t exactly excellent public service. His car had an abnormally large trunk for various reasons of dubious legality. It would have to do. Upon further inspection, Tim realized that the security cameras in the stairs and on the level where his car was parked were skillfully disabled. ‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘all the easier for me to load a bunch of bodies.’ Needless to say, he scrupulously obeyed every traffic law on his drive home.

Arriving home to a bunch of crazy people in the process of invading his home was what Tim had expected, but not necessarily what he’d wanted, especially considering the elevator full of semi-conscious thugs he had to deal with.

“Heya Steph, could you help a guy out here? I’ve got my hands full with the grocery shopping.” No need to let the neighbors know he was super sketchy.

“Dude, Tim, you sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated. I was just telling Cass that I needed to stomp somebody’s face.” Steph was looking at the elevator with an expression of unholy glee. So much for his image with the neighbors.

“I got jumped in a parking garage on my way home from work. Show a little respect to the traumatized victim over here.”

Tam burst out laughing. “What?” she demanded. “It’s hilarious.”

Steph actually stomped someone’s face. It was the poor dude who’d fallen prey to the cane.

“Bloody mess,” said Cass.

Tim sighed.

Dinner was actually pretty good. Tim could make a mean tuna noodle casserole and the girls had spent most of the day baking Christmas cookies. Tim made a lot of casserole.

“They might have tried to kidnap me earlier, but that’s no excuse to not feed them. They didn’t even try all that hard.”

Feeding a bunch of men tied up in a spare bathroom was an exercise in extreme patience.

“We should probably let them use the toilet,” said Tam a bit dubiously. “I mean, it can’t be very comfortable to be tied up with a full bladder.”

“We’ll do a toilet break after they answer some questions. The faster they talk, the faster they can pee.”

The one getting food stuffed into his mouth by Steph glared poisonously at Tim.

“That is a pretty cruel tactic bird-boy,” laughed Steph. “It’ll probably work too.”

It didn’t take long for the thugs to start spilling their guts; they weren’t very high quality villains. It turned out that they were indeed Hydra and had been told to ‘get the Drake boy out of the way for a few days.’ They didn’t know why or even who their commanding officer was.

“We’re just a borough cell,” said a burly man with outrageously dyed hair and a frankly ridiculous beard. “This was the only action we’ve gotten in all the years we’ve been a unit. If you want the real ballers, you’ve got to talk with the regional dudes.”

“Sometimes we go paint-balling in Jersey to keep the edges sharp,” piped up a stringy kid.

“There’s that laser tag place on Tremont that we use occasionally,” added one of the guys whose appearance was edging dangerously into frat bro territory.

The process of keeping all the prisoners secured while giving them all the opportunity to relieve themselves was awkward on so many different levels. Half an hour later there was an informal counsel of war going on in Tim’s living room.

“You have got some killer couches considering that its temporary digs,” exclaimed Tam. “Are they a necessary prop for the superhero business? Because Oracle has got some pretty sweet seats too.”

“Let me get this straight,” interjected Steph, “Hydra, the evil people you’re not supposed to know about, are attempting to destroy Tony Stark’s reputation as a generally reformed character, by setting him up in a super compromising position while Ms. Potts is in the middle of some super important business negotiations.”

“Yeah. That’s about it.”

“Strippers,” giggled Cass. “Evil accountants,” and then she was just gone in a fit of laughter.

It was, Tim reflected, fairly absurd, but one of his family’s particular enemies was an evil acid washed clown, then there was the Justice League moon base and the cloaked satellite so he really couldn’t call much too out there. “It’s hilarious and all but I’ve got a reputation to uphold right now, so I can’t really be seen breaking into an assisted living facility, photographer’s office, or digging through Hydra agents’ trash,. I was thinking that maybe you all could do the physical legwork on this one.”

“The legwork on this one seems to be especially disgusting,” observed Tam. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting back into my good graces?”

“Hey! You’re the one who wanted to be a superhero. It isn’t all flips and shit. Sometimes you’ve got to dig through the trash and audit accountants.”

Tam looked Tim over with consideration. “No wonder you’re bonkers.”

“I can’t really object to that,” said Tim after a moment, “but just think, this’ll be good practice for your new extracurricular activities in Gotham. There’s a lot of second story work involved in the case we’ve got here.”

“Excellent,” said Cass. “Punching people, quietly.”

“When do we get started?” asked Steph.

“What are we doing with the dudes in the bathtub?” inquired Tam.

“One problem at a time,” sighed Tim.

“Did you know you have seven men chilling in your bathroom? All tied up? Cause that’s some kinky shit and I’m not sure I want to be associated with that,” said a new voice.

“Prudence,” moaned Tim. “Now isn’t actually the best time for our monthly coffee date.”

“You,” growled Tam.

“Me,” acknowledged Pru.

“Steph, don’t break her nose again please,” muttered Tim.

Steph smiled winningly. “I’ll always welcome the addition of lots of firepower to any problem solving session.”

There was a sudden blur of motion and a strangely familiar crunch.

“Fuck,” yelled Pru in a muffled sort of way.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” said Tam, smiling beatifically. “It was just as satisfying as I thought it would be.”

“Why’s it always got to be my nose,” moaned Pru.

“It’s just so inviting,” replied Tam. “It’s like it was calling my name.”

Tim decided that he had never really had control of the situation in the first place, but it didn’t really matter. The more the merrier, even if he’d dated two of them in the past. Cass was generally on his side to balance out the ex-girlfriends. Usually. Steph was giving Pru an abbreviated summary on the situation.

“I’ll shake down my contacts in the area. See what I can pull up for you,” volunteered Prudence. “I’ve even got some contacts in Hydra that I can mess with. I’ll see what comes loose when I shake ‘em.”

“Tam and I’ll go dig through trash,” said Steph brightly. “Batgirl and Spoiler for the win!”

“Steal naughty videos,” declared Cass.

“I’ll arrange for the disposal of our unfortunate guests,” said Tim.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” threw in Prudence. “You have a silencer? Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.”

Tim looked very offended. “Not that kind of disposal. I know a guy with nifty brain powers. They’ll remember what I want them to remember and then resurface in some trashy motel.”

Pru looked rather disappointed.

“Gear-up kids, we’re wasting moonlight here,” commanded Steph just as Tim’s phone buzzed.

“Oracle’s got some information for us. You’re on speaker O. I’ve got a pretty big audience.”

Oracle’s weirdly computerized voice filled the living room. “Perth is definitely your guy. He did a seven month work study during university in Greece for what appears to be a Hydra front. When he got home, it looks like his parents found and paid for a good therapist for him, but the payments to the office stop after three months. If you can get into his apartment, I can hack his second cell. I know it’s there but I can’t get in from out here. I’d also like a shot at his computer.”

“What about Robert’s?” asked Tim.

“Someone’s blackmailing him. There are regular withdrawals of five hundred dollars even from his checking account to the West Milton children’s fund, which is a shell company registered in Delaware to a Matthew Perkins. He’s a false id. The documentation is all right, but the man himself is a ghost. It’s a professional job, so whoever set it up has some organizational clout behind it. Roberts isn’t married, but about seven years ago a girlfriend of his, Alicia Wallace disappeared without a trace. It’s very possible he’s being blackmailed for his role in her disappearance. She’s the daughter of a Kentucky senator, so the blackmailer could be demanding more than just money in return for silence. The fallout would be huge. There’d be literal hillbillies with shotguns to worry about.”

“Thanks O,” said Tim. “We’ll get you the other stuff, just let us know if anything else turns up.”

“If Perth isn’t home when we go through the trash,” mused Steph, “we’ll get his hard drive and find the second phone. Roberts wouldn’t keep anything incriminating in his own home, especially with a blackmailer on the loose. Could you clone his phone at work tomorrow Tim?”

“I can’t, my feud with Accounting is a bit too well known, but I’ve got an agent in place who would love to lend a hand or in this case a phone. You should have everything by eight-ish tomorrow morning O.”

“Happy hunting everyone, I’ll see what more I can dig up for you. Oracle out.” The connection terminated.

“Everyone know what they’re doing?” asked Tim.

“All good,” said Cass. “Let’s go.”

With admirable rapidity Tim’s living room was free of interlopers. He quickly scheduled an appointment with Delmargo’s Laundry Service; stains gone like magic. The ‘laundry’ would be picked up the following day. Apparently Delmargo’s was dealing with a sudden uptick in business and couldn’t send out a rapid response team unless the situation was particularly urgent. Oh well, bed was calling his name. Some people had actual day jobs to keep up with.

Meanwhile, Steph and Tam were having a wonderful bonding experience investigating bins.

“This Perth dude is super sketchy. I mean, I’d be all over his case even if I didn’t know he had Nazi terrorist ties.” Tam held up a discarded box of Barbie dolls that looked like they’d been shot in the head and chest multiple times with an airsoft gun. “These things are expensive. Who’s going to go around shooting them up except for some psycho?”

“I’ve got a whole bunch of receipts here. Looks like he just emptied out his wallet all at once. We can analyze them in the light back at Red’s place.”

Tam let out an incredulous noise. “What kind of idiot evil person doesn’t do online billing? Or at least shred their phone bills.” She held up a sheaf of admittedly food splattered papers. “Last month’s bills. For both the cells.”

“Good work Spoiler. I’ve got a discarded, quality watch here. It looks like the only issue with it is an old battery. With his current SI salary, he shouldn’t be able to afford tossing a perfectly good watch.”

“I’ve got a couple empty jars of black market pate and a couple old bottles of a really good petite shiraz in the recycle. Speaking of alcohol, is this really a bottle for authentic small batch Irish? Because that has got to go for a pile.”

“Toss it here.” Steph took one whiff. “Yeah, Yeah it is. The B-man keeps that stuff lying around. The smell’s unmistakable.”

“This dude’s living kind of large don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more. What do you say we get that computer hard drive?”

Perth was home, but a cursory inspection of the bedroom window showed that he was sleeping soundly, two phones on his bedside table.

“The utter idiot,” whispered Tam. ‘Are all criminals this ridiculous or is it just this particular case?”

“It really depends,” answered Steph. “A lot of them are really, really good in certain areas and then get overconfident in the others. I guess that that’s this guy, but some of them are just great all around. Don’t let yourself get overconfident. Bad stuff happens if you do.” Considering that Steph had basically died once, her advice had some weight to it.

They went in the back door by way of the balcony. For two vigilantes used to swinging around the crumbling skyscrapers of Gotham, the entrance was child’s play. Moving silently and making good use of the copious moonlight, Batgirl and Spoiler made their way swiftly through the apartment to the neatly organized office space off the kitchen.

‘You computer. Me phone,’ signaled Steph already on her way out the door, her cape leaving weird shadows on the tile floor.

Cloning the phones went perfectly. Oracle’s software meant the encryption protecting the Bluetooth signals didn’t stand a chance. Perth slept through the whole thing. Tam found the computer to be a bit trickier, but she had the world’s best tech support on speed dial.

‘Give me hardline in,’ texted O in response to Spoiler’s plea for help. ‘The HDMI adapter. Connect it to your phone and I’ll get the rest.’ Oracle was through the encryption if minutes. ‘I don’t have the bandwidth in that apartment to upload the files straight from the computer. Download it onto the hard drive and get out of there. O out.’

Batgirl joined her for the last minute or two of the processed and flashed her a blinding grin when everything was copied. Spoiler closed everything out, erasing all signs intrusion. The two young women spared a minute for a silent victory high five before making their exit.

Meanwhile, Cassandra Cain, the fearsome Black Bat, was having a blast. Breaking into the Sweetly Sainted Home for Elderly Holy Sisters was as simple as slipping through the open loading dock doors in receiving. She turned her nose up at the packaged produce that was getting unloaded, but found the stairs to the rest of the building easily enough. The cavernous kitchen was only empty blackness, but the administrative offices were just outside the heavy kitchen entrance. Fire door, she noted approvingly. The HR director’s office wasn’t particularly spectacular but was very well organized. The Black Bat picked the lock on the filing cabinet and hit pay dirt.

The notes on the annual office holiday party were right at the front of the events tab. She had the list of attendees in a twinkling and the name of the videographer: Pitch Perfect Photography-top notch photography services to a tune. They were handily situated only two blocks down from her location. It was practically perfect in every way. She grinned and sent the list of names and cell phone numbers off to Oracle. She’d track down any video footage of the event and get rid of it.

Half an hour later Cass was forcing the lock on a fifth story window in a decrepit office building, home of Pitch Perfect Photography. The computer didn’t even have a password. She inserted the flash-drive containing Oracle’s tailored virus and killed time by investigating the contents of the memory chips in the video equipment. There was one chip containing recordings of the Stark impersonator which she promptly bagged for evidence. Cass took a last look around before swiping the dive and leaving via the same window she’d come in by. The whole operation had been flawless, but the Black Bat was a bit disappointed: she hadn’t had the opportunity to punch anyone.

The operatives all returned to Tim’s apartment with five minutes of each other. Except Prudence.

“If she’s hunting down Hydra contacts like she said, she’ll be out for a while,” Steph explained to Tam. “That’s not something someone can do in two hours. It’s not too late yet, how about we go over the papers we pulled out of the trash.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” said Tam. “I’m going to make use of Tim’s ridiculous internet to send O the stuff I got off the computer.”

“Watch a movie?” asked Cass, holding up the chip she’d stolen.

Her suggestion was met by identical evil grins.

Tim did not want to go to work the next morning. He really, really didn’t. If he went to work, he’d have to leave behind the cozy apartment full of good friends in order to deal with evil accountants and an absent boss whose ass he had to save in secret. It wouldn’t even show up on his employee evaluation if he was at all successful. His day brightened marginally when he saw the plate of muffins of the breakfast table. It got even better when he saw the neat stack of reports lying by the coffee maker, and it turned spectacular when he noticed that someone had just filled his French press.

“Morning,” said a rough voice behind him.

Tim turned just in time to watch Pru drop like a bag of rocks into a dainty Queen Ann’s chair. “Rough night?” he asked.

“You could say that. Word on the street is that the last goon squad to go after you disappeared mysteriously, so they’re probably planning a standard home invasion with some actual heavy hitters. That’ll take a while to plan, so you’ve got a day or two of breathing room.”

“Did your contacts know anything about the op at SI?”

Pru stuffed an entire muffin in her mouth before answering. She looked like she regretted the decision a moment later. “They guy I talked to, you can’t… You can’t say or do anything that would rat him out, ok? He’s mostly a good guy, I mean he’s Hydra, but that was a shitty life choice he made when he was just a kid. By the time he realized who he’d sold his soul too, it was too fucking late. The only way out of that fucking organization is in a damned body bag.”

‘Hey,” whispered Tim, “I get it. I won’t write it down. Decisions you make as a punk kid shouldn’t be what people judge you for, yeah? Unless its cannibalism or something like that. I totally judge wannabe Hannibals.”

“Yeah. It’s just… he’s really not a bad kid, but I can’t. I can’t do anything for him. You know?”

“Yeah. Life sucks sometimes. When this is all over I’ll see what I can do. Would you like that?”

Pru gave him the closest thing he’d ever seen to a watery smile before going on. “He told me Perth is the big noise in NY these days. Most of the upper and middle management, in the U.S at least, got cleared out during that fiasco in D.C. Perth is kind of a shitty boss is the word on the ground. Brilliant in some stuff, hopeless at everything else, but there isn’t anyone else to fill the vacuum.”

“So the big cheese works for Stark now. They’re trading one infiltration gig for another.”

“Pretty much. The good news though is that what you see is what you get with Perth’s plans. The whole stripper thing would have caught you right outta left field if you hadn’t had that warning from that Albert dude. It would have worked, and with Stark on that Avengers thing, everything would have blown up before anything could have been done.”  
Tim munched thoughtfully on his own muffin. “We’ve just got to get rid of the invoice and video footage to make the whole thing go away, is that it? But that would leave Perth in a position to cause more trouble in the future.”

“He sent a squad after you, you know. My contact says that Perth doesn’t really accept failure. He might just get fed up with the whole subtle thing and go for a straight up assassination.”

Assassinations were not something Tim really wanted to deal with in his position with SI. They were part and parcel of the Wayne package, but he had a few more resources to work with on his home turf than he did when pretending to be a very competent but physically unremarkable average Joe. “We’ll have to set him up to be found out,” he declared before tossing back the rest of his coffee. “Yippee.”

“Use that big brain of yours sometime today Red. I feel like zombie roadkill.”

Tim looked her over consideringly. “You look like zombie roadkill. Even more than usual. Go to bed Pru. Hopefully the world won’t end while you’re out.”

“Can I use your bathroom first? I’ve got evil fumes in my clothes.”

“Yeah, sure. What’s wrong with the spare?’

Pru just looked at him intently.

“Oh. Right. The goon squad.”

Tim’s phone buzzed.

‘Pepper’s away. Need a couch to crash on that isn’t mobbed by press. Be at your place in ten.’

He stared at his phone in slowly manifesting terror.

“What?” demanded Prudence.

“It’s Stark,” whispered Tim. “He’s coming here. To sleep on the couch.” The apartment wasn’t really all that big. It was a two bed, two bath affair and there were vigilantes sleeping on most of the flat surfaces in the spare. There were people tied up in one of the bathtubs. “You’re here. He knows you. This is going to be a disaster.”

“You’ll figure something out. If he wants the couch, does that mean I can have your bed?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Just be out of the shower in ten.”

Getting the apartment looking presentable for a sleep deprived superhero didn’t take too long. The girls were all in the spare bedroom to begin with, but there were bits and pieces of costumes scattered all around. Tim really hoped that when Stark got in he’d be too tired to notice all the little things that were off. He left a note on the door for his other guests before rushing to greet Tony. The shower shut off just before the bell rang.

“Good morning Mr. Stark. Is there anything I ought to know before I let you in?” asked Tim, stalling for time. “Life-threating injuries? Strange goo that will be impossible to wash out of the upholstery later? Enemy agents who’ll want to bomb my apartment if they know you’re here? Newly discovered love-child underneath your coat?”  
Stark looked back blearily. He had a black eye and half his left eyebrow was burnt off He wasn’t in any position to engage in witty banter.

“Alright then. You know where the couch is. I’ve got some Gotham friends staying the night in the spare room and the spare bath is not in any condition to be used. Use the master. There’s a cleaning crew coming in this afternoon to fix up the guest, but until then just stay away.”

Tony just stared.

“Cool. Cool. Sleep tight. I’m off to work.”

Tim ushered his guest over to the sofa and tucked him in. He fell asleep almost instantly. ‘Well,’ thought Tim, ‘that went pretty well.’ He checked once again on Prudence and found her curled up securely in his bed. With the covers over top of her there was no way anyone would recognize her.

At eight o’clock precisely, Tim was sitting down at his desk staring blankly at his computer screen. He had a stack of reports from the last night’s adventures to read, but before he could do that he had agents to contact. He buzzed Albert in Billing.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sending a phone down to you via the couriers in a box full of cassettes. It’s got some custom cloning software loaded on it. I need you to hijack Robert’s cell.”

“You need me to what?”

“Clone his cell? The user interface on the one I’m sending you will make it real easy. It’s a one trick pony kind of deal.”

There was a significant amount of rustling and some indistinct voices on Albert’s end of the line.

“You weren’t kidding about the cassettes were you? How the hell did you even find some of these?”

“The phone still there?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yeah. Sure. You said it was easy?”

“Yup. Send the phone back up with the office supplies that are coming in this morning. They always stop at your floor first.”

Urgent business concluded, Tim began going through reports. Olga didn’t arrive until eight-thirty on the dot and there was no use in rushing her. The evidence that had been collected was already fairly damning if one knew what to look for. Perth was spending far more money than he should have been considering his salary, and there were receipts for things an innocent man really shouldn’t have. Steph had found a bill from Roscoe’s Extermination Services, which specialized in sanitizing crime scenes and obfuscating legal channels, and Tam had located a dinner check from Allison’s Country Diner, a greasy spoon and front for the League of Assassins. That one was kind of worrying. It was dated only two days before, so it was possible that Perth was colluding with the same people who’d nabbed Tony several months before. Despite the evidence that Perth had been in communication with professional assassins, Tim was a bit uncertain that the League would take up a contract for someone they’d taken out previously. Tony was an Avenger and they really couldn’t afford the close scrutiny that would come with repeated attacks on such a well-connected individual. Tim’s phone buzzed.

“Yes Ms. Doris?”

“There is an Olga here to see you.” Disdain dripped like acid off her tongue.

Tim couldn’t figure out what she’d want, especially since it was only eight twenty. “Send her on in. It must be important.”

“It is important,” said Olga as soon as the door swung securely shut. “I came in early this morning because I have a hair appointment over lunch.”

“That’s why it’s important?” asked Tim. “Your hair is in excellent shape. You don’t need an emergency haircut.”

Olga glared him into submission.

“Ok. Yes. Continue.”

“I took dictation for the COO first thing today. Plinkett is chaperoning a field trip and took the day off.”

“Half the PA staff is off for the same reason.”

“I know. It’s awful. Anyway. The letter was to the Standards and Control Board for the E.U. deal. It was a response to a very pointed analysis of the susceptibility of American institutions to infiltration and it stated in no uncertain terms that SI uses the most vigorous methods to ensure that no agents of foreign powers or non-state actors can possibly end up in positions here.”

“That’s a rich analysis considering who the investigators found sitting in influential Brussels positions. But I see the issue.”

“The COO just sent a letter to some picky, powerful people in the midst of extremely sensitive negotiations guaranteeing something that we know to be untrue. The Board signed off on it in the morning session”

“It’s got Board signatures on it?” Tim asked weakly.

“Yeah,” she replied, dejection clear in the slope of her shoulders.

“No one can know that Perth is Hydra then. We’ll have to take care of this completely off the books.”

“It is certain then? Perth is most definitely Hydra?”

‘Yeah. Red Robin and his team confirmed it last night. He’s blackmailing Roberts into being an accomplice.”

Olga gave him a sharp look. “What’s Roberts hiding then?”

“He murdered a girlfriend.”

“That’s bad, but someone with connections could get that smoothed over a bit.”

“The daughter of a Kentucky Senator.”

“That. Yeah. I can see how that would be something of an issue.” She looked thoughtful. “Frame it so that Roberts gets busted for the murder and Perth gets pinned for the blackmail. No need to mention the other conspiracies at all. You have the resources to do that yes?”

“Yes. Yes I do. And my friend has the resources to knock out the proto Hydra cell hanging around in New York without official help.”

“You are very fortunate then in your friends then. I wish you luck. I will warn you though, Perth also came in early today and his nails were chewed down to the quick. He’s getting desperate about something-“

“-and desperate people do desperate thing. I understand. I’ll be on the lookout. Anything else?”

“No. Have fun!”

“Am I hallucinating or did you just say ‘fun’ in a normal conversation?”

“Shut up Drake,” she said pasting a massive scowl on her face. “You must have misheard. I said exactly nothing.”

“Of course,” said Tim, smiling. “Let me know if anything changes.”

Just as Olga left, Tim got a Snapchat from Steph. Cass had done Stark’s make-up as he slept and the end result was fairly ghastly. ‘New Villain’ was the caption and Tim couldn’t argue with that. Stark looked like the demented offspring of a cabbage and Killer Frost. The green tinge really didn’t match the blue lipstick.

“Stark is going to kill me,” moaned Tim. “He was supposed to be safe there.” He sent a text to that effect to Tam. Maybe she’d be sympathetic.

‘He deserves it,” she responded. ‘I will never ever, ever forgive him for that disastrous dinner party.’

He had to give her that. ‘Has the cleaning crew showed up yet?’

‘Yeah. They’re here now. Came early.’

That was one thing Tim didn’t need to worry about then. Stark wasn’t an idiot, he’d notice a pile of unconscious men in the guest bathroom. His curious nature would have demanded that he check out the rooms labeled off limits. Tim needed something else though and there was no way to sugar coat it.

‘I need you all to take out the Hydra base connected with Perth.’

‘I usually wait till the third date before I throw myself into mortal peril for a dude.’

‘What do you call that hotel room?’

‘The one where you pretty much died?’

‘The really cool palace?’

‘We were kidnapped by crazy ninjas. And there were spider people.’

‘You’ve already put yourself in mortal peril for me and so obviously I’m an exception to the rule????’

‘Nice try short-stuff. It was non-consensual moral peril.’

‘Sometimes it wasn’t???????’

‘I thought I was trying to retrieve my air-headed boss’ equally idiotic pig headed son before he disgraced the family name any more than it already had been! I was doing my job!’

‘If you don’t say yes I’ll appeal to a higher authority.’

‘Steph’ll side with me you twit.’

‘Cass wants to punch people.’

‘Damn. You Win.’

‘I always win.’

‘Just stop while you’re ahead.’

‘Aye-aye Captain.’

Tim’s cell rang. He saw the image on his lock-screen and smiled. “Cass! What do you need?”

‘I have photos give to Vicky Vale for news.” Cass sounded distinctly giggly.

It sounded like an excellent idea to Tim. “Go for it,” he said around a grin. “Serves him right.”

“Ummmhmm. Storm Hydra base for justice?”

“Yup.”

“Special instructions?” Her excitement was a palpable thing, even over the phone.

“Nah. Actually. It’s got to be real quiet. No one can find out was Bat people. You guys figure it out. I’ve got to frame a guy for a murder he actually committed and then pull off a dramatic reveal of Perth’s blackmailing tendencies before our friendly neighborhood Avengers figure out there’s a Hydra plant here.”

“Love you too brother.”

“Yeah. Love you sis.”

Tim’s day was looking up. He had a plan and some kickass ladies providing muscle. He had a ruthless secretary and a sneaky billing expert. He had a grumpy assistant who screened his calls like a queen and a blessedly absent boss. He had this. Perth was going down. Now that he knew what to look for, the evidence pointing to Roberts was ridiculously easy to dig up. Most of it was helpfully organized in color coordinated folders that Oracle had pulled from Perth’s hard drive. She’d just sent him a heavily annotated file before kindly telling him to leave her the fuck alone; there was a Justice League mission to pilot moon droids for and any mistakes could be fatal. They couldn’t afford to accidently off Allen again as close to a crisis as they were.

In a move of unparalleled arrogance, Perth owned a trailer in West Milton, Ohio. Matching the name of the shell company used for blackmailing certainly was dramatic. Tim could appreciate that. Apparently he’d found the body of Alicia Wallace while re-digging the garden. Roberts had owned the place before hand and had made the colossally stupid decision to bury his victim under the front walk. Really, the whole thing was just so easy. Tim was used to dealing with the torturous, winding plans of devious supervillains and paranoid crime bosses. The common criminal was proving to be a bit of a letdown. The director of the New York City Hydra network was supposed to be some ruthless, conniving bigwig, not an inept failure who kept reams of incriminating information on his personal laptop. Sending the anonymous tip off to the three person West Milton police department with information on the town’s most famous unsolved case was a matter of moments.

Roberts would be in prison within the week.

It was time to frame Perth for blackmail. Tim called Albert.

“What’s up my co-conspirator?”

“Albert, I need you to do something kind of important.”

“I just sent the phone cloner thing. What do you need now?”

“I kind of need you to download the contents of a flash drive onto Perth’s work computer.”

“The fudge?!” came Albert’s furious whisper.

“It’s only a little illegal! I promise!”

“No. I mean. Yeah it’s illegal, but Perth is at his desk right now. I literally can’t.”

“I’ve got a meeting with Accounting in twenty. Do it then.”

“You know,” said Albert thoughtfully, “all I did was do the decent thing and give a pal a tip-off. Now I’m replicating my glory days and framing some guy for something. I don’t even know anymore.”

“It’ll be fine. We’re framing him for something he actually did, so it’s all cool.”

“I’ll do it. How are you getting me the drive?”

“Dead drop at the copier station on the 20th floor. It’ll be in the fourth drawer of that broken photocopier.”

“I was just up there. Felicia Robinson’s scanning like fifty case files to WorldDocs in that one. The scanner in Legal is fucked up is the word.”

“Shit. She’ll be there all day. Possibly all week. I’ll put it on top the water cooler outside the purple conference room. No one ever uses that room. The color’s a total embarrassment.”

“But the vending machine there’s the best in the building. No one will question your presence. Good thinking. Hold on. Can you even reach the top?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s a valid question kid.”

“Fine. I’ll stash it behind the barrel.”

“Much better idea. Have fun with Accounting.”

“Yeah. Wait a second. You’re going to need Perth’s password. I’ve got it, just give me a moment.”

It was the work of moments to hand over the sensitive information. Tim glanced down suddenly at the time. “Shit. I’ve got to go. Remember. Water cooler outside the purple conference room.”

“Got it. Don’t accidentally stab Perth in the face.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I can contain myself.” Tim grabbed a spare black and yellow flash drive and quickly transferred select files from Oracles dump. Perth, while an idiot, wasn’t a complete moron. He didn’t mix work tech with Hydra business, but no one else knew that. Tim would put out in an anonymous tip to the IT department. Someone on Perth’s floor had seen him looking at porn on the work computers and didn’t really want to be caught in the middle of the fallout. An IT guy would check it out and find evidence of blackmail. A bloodless takedown.

The trip down to the twenty fourth floor didn’t provide much time for Tim to think, which was good; he was liable to overthink things sometimes when there was nothing else to do. There were a gratifying number of people hanging around the vending machine when Tim got to the drop point, but no one was really paying much attention to anyone else. He deposited the drive behind the water cooler and took off across the floor to the conference room he’d be meeting his mortal enemies in.

In a stroke of good fortune, both Perth and Roberts were in attendance. Tim chose the chair directly across from the two of them, a position perfectly situated for a stare down. The meeting itself was an uninteresting update on new financial reporting policies specific to Tony’s R and D work. Towards the end of the hour, Perth spoke up.

“I would like to make sure that Mr. Drake understands the importance of ensuring that SI sends out invoices for all of Mr. Stark’s work. It is important that all work that Mr. Stark does in any capacity on behalf of SI is correctly and efficiently logged. We do not want to set bad precedents.”

“I assure you Mr. Perth that I am perfectly cognizant of all the rules pertaining to billable hours and have yet to make a serious mistake on that front.”

“Are you quite sure about that Mr. Drake? I seem to recall seeing an invoice come down to Billing Wednesday evening that I have yet to see logged with Accounting.”

“I am very certain, Mr. Perth, that Mr. Stark performed no services on behalf on SI for outside institutions within the past week. If you believe this to be untrue, please have this investigated in the usual channels. I may be Mr. Stark’s personal assistant, but I cannot claim to know everything that he does.”

The audience was enthralled by the display of icy politeness between the two. It seemed as though there was a different conversation happening just below the surface, like someone was going to end up bleeding out on the conference room floor. Robert’s felt as though he had lost complete control of the situation and it was beginning to appear very possible that Drake knew a lot more than he ought to.

“Mr. Perth, Mr. Drake, perhaps you two ought to turn down the hostilities a bit. I’m feeling rather lost.”

“I apologize Mr. Roberts. I do not like being accused of incompetence.”

There was a snort from one of the interns. “What? Everyone knows Drake’s a perfectionist. It’s hardly surprising.”

“Thank-you for your input Mr. Hartley. Is there any other business that we should deal with?” asked Roberts. He really hoped there wasn’t. Being in the same room as Timothy Drake-Wayne was extremely bad for his blood pressure.

Tim got a notification on his cell. The West Milton Police Department had, in the two hours that had elapsed since he’d sent in the tip, secured and executed the warrant to investigate Robert’s old trailer and postage stamp lot. They had found the body. It must, Tim mused, have been an exceedingly slow day in the department. It usually took quite a bit longer. The FBI would be informed of the new developments within the hour. Roberts would be arraigned quite a bit sooner than Tim’s original timeline had had it down for. Sometimes government officials weren’t as incompetent as they looked.

“If Mr. Drake is quite certain that he sent no invoices on Mr. Stark’s behalf down to billing, then I guess I don’t have any more business to discuss,” said Perth, glaring poisonously at Tim.

Tim felt a chilly premonition race down his spine. Perth was going to do something.

“Alright then,” announced Roberts with faux pep, “You are all dismissed.” Underneath his bushy beard he was white as a sheet.

On his way back up to his office, Tim got an outraged text from Tony.

‘You’re friends are assholes. Just so you know. Hot assholes. But still assholes.’

Tim was unable to enjoy that declaration as much as he should have. His mind was still on other things. ‘You coming in today?’

‘Yeah. I’m here actually. Your assistant is in a serious mood today.’

‘I’ve had Olga up a few more times than is usual.’

‘Olga? You utter fox!!!!!!’

Tim just put his head in his hands, since he was in the elevator this garnered him many odd looks.

‘No. Stop. Just stop.’

‘Someone else is in a serious mood today too.’

‘Mr. Stark I’m trying to keep this professional.’

‘Whatever you say Timothy. Whatever you say.’

Tim gave up. He did not have time to manage egotistical billionaires. He arrived in his office and dropped like a bag of rocks into his spinney chair. Tony Stark appeared suddenly, flecks of blue lipstick still smeared across his face.

“I just got a heads up call from the FBI. They’ve got a warrant out for Roberts, the Accounting head. Doris says you were just in a meeting with him. Do you have any idea what it’s about?”

Tim thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it Mr. Stark, Roberts did look like utter Hell during the course of that meeting, but I couldn’t tell you why. Are they picking him up here or are they going to be kind and wait till he gets home?”

“I got the impression that it was something very serious. I doubt they’re going to want to give him time to hear about it second-hand and make a run for it.”

“Shit. We don’t need that kind of press considering the deal Ms. Potts is trying to make.”

“It should be fine,” Tony replied. “It isn’t like it’s a Hydra infiltration. I’d have known about it if it was.”

“Yeah. It’s definitely not a Hydra infiltration,” said Tim, laughing nervously.

Tim’s desk phone buzzed.

“Yes Ms. Doris?”

“It’s reception. They’re sending some people up. Is Mr. Stark in there with you?”

“Yeah. Do they want to talk with him?”

“Yes.”

“It’s for you,” he said, shoving the receiver into Stark’s waiting hand.

“Yes Ms. Doris?”

“I’m transferring them to you now. Hold on one second.”

“Mr. Stark, I just sent five FBI agents up to Accounting. They’re here for Roberts. I saw the warrant. It’s for murder.”

“Shit. Alright. Tell HR and I’ll get Communications on a press release. I’d be prepared for a lot of press on this issue. Operate under a ‘no comment’ policy please.”

“Of course Mr. Stark. I’ll let my staff know immediately.”

Tony hung up. “Tim, I think I need a drink. Have you got anything in this office?”

“Mr. Stark, I hate to inform you that I am not yet twenty-one. I’ve got a few more years to go before I can admit to that.”

“You sure you don’t have something, anything?”

“Mr. Stark, your office is literally right across the hall and I’m pretty sure you’ve got something secreted away in there.”

“You tossed my liquor supply two days ago.”

Tim looked at him, hard. “I know I didn’t get it all.”

“No. No. you didn’t. I’ll be right back. No peeking.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

“No. Really. After the morning I just had with your houseguests, I really need a drink.”

“You’re the one who invited himself over at the last minute. That’s on you.”

“I got tackled by a blonde bombshell before I even got drink my coffee. Apparently I walked in on the morning wrestling match. And it wasn’t even a euphemism!”

“Oh yeah. I forgot that that would probably happen. I’ll look the other way. This time.”

Tony ducked into his office to grab some fortification just as Tim got a text from Albert.

‘Mission accomplished about thirty minutes ago.’

‘Also, it is a zoo down here. Not sure anyone’s going to get any work done the rest of the day.’

‘That was expected. Perth ought to be going down by the end of the day. I’ve tipped off IT.’ Tim looked mournfully at his inbox and then at his to-do list. Sorting mail didn’t come to a halt just because he was having a crisis. How Stark ended up with as much paper mail as he did considering that he had built a tech empire was baffling, but he had a mountain and it had to be dealt with. He was in the middle of renewing several journal subscriptions when an urgent email from Doris popped up in his notifications. The subject line was two words ‘Watch Out.’ Tim had only seconds to contemplate the message before someone kicked in his door.

There were at least ten men dressed in TAC gear. Through the suddenly open door of the office, Tim could see that they’d rappelled down the side of the building and broken through the window glass. He had moments to figure out a plan of action. Unlike in the parking garage, there would be witnesses to see him fight. He couldn’t blow his identity; Bruce would make the disappointed face and the devil child would never let him live it down.

Drawn by the noise, Tony burst like an avenging demon into the midst of the fray, ensuring that Tim definitely couldn’t pull out any Red Robin moves.

“Stay behind me Timothy! I’ve got self-defense training!” Stark yelled authoritatively.

“I’m a Wayne, a huge kidnap risk. I too have training.”

“I am an Avenger!” came the reply just as Tony got punched in the jaw by a terrifying goon roughly the size of a semi.

“Where’s your suit?” Tim demanded, dropping to the floor and rolling under his desk to avoid the three men attempting to pile drive him.

“It’s being serviced after last night. It got trashed.” Tony looked like he was on the verge on continuing his explanation when one of the thugs chucked a stapler at his head. Stark went down like a Jenga tower during an earthquake.

Tim rolled out from under the desk, a set of escrima sticks in hand. So he had a bit of a weapons hoarding issue, so what. At least he always had a couple within easy reach. They were ready for him though and a short stocky dude kicked him hard in the kidneys. Tim resisted the almost overpowering urge to curl up like a pill bug and instead kicked out hard with his feet, sending his beautiful spinney chair directly into the knot of assailants attempting to follow up on their compatriot’s attack. They scattered and Tim surged up, head-butting the short guy in the crotch. Not even a jock strap would stop that one. Short and stocky fell into a gasping heap. Across the room, Tony showed signs of regaining consciousness, which, while a good sign in regards to head trauma, meant Tim had to tone it down again.

His cell buzzed. Tim rolled back under the desk and wedged himself securely in the corner. The men tried to lift the desk up. Unfortunately for them, it was bolted to the floor.

“Does anyone have a socket wrench?” yelled one.

“I’ve got a grenade!” yelled another.

“Bastard! That won’t work in a confined space. Unless you want to fast track your trip to the pie in the sky,” growled the first guy.  
Tim checked his phone. It was Doris. ‘I’ve alerted SHIELD,’ read the message. ‘ETA 5 minutes.’ Five minutes was an eternity.

The thugs tried to pry Tim out of his corner using brute force. Tim smashed them in the shins.

“If you don’t get out of there,” threatened a faceless goon. “I’ll shoot your boss. In the gut.”

Just as Tim was about to comply, Olga barreled through Tim’s abused office door. The attackers went down in a manner similar to ten pins in the face of a bowling ball. She grabbed the computer keyboard and started swinging it around indiscriminately.

“Take that. And that. And that. Don’t you dare!” she yelled furiously. There was a thunk that sounded suspiciously like the keyboard being thrown into someone’s head. Tim rolled out once more from under his desk wielding a hammer and pepper spray. He got one in the eyes and left him whimpering on the floor. Olga was brandishing Tim’s cane in a suspiciously skillful fashion.

“Take care of your idiot boss,” she commanded. “I will deal with this scum.”

Tim went. Bodies continued to hit the floor.

Tony appeared to have a slight concussion and a glorious egg on the angle of his jaw.

“Is it broken?” asked Tim.

“Gah,” said Stark.

“This is going to hurt,” came the response as Tim began poking around Tony’s jaw. Stark moaned weakly, but the cursory inspection turned up no signs of a fracture.

Olga was in the process of smothering the last of the men with a decorative throw pillow when the SHIELD agents came rushing in. “It’s about time you got here,” she said, frowning, “Your response time is abysmal.”

Tim’s cell buzzed. It was Albert. ‘IT just confiscated Perth’s computer ten minutes ago.’

‘I can tell.’

‘Oh?’

‘He sent in the goon squad.’

‘Are you ok?’

‘Yeah. Olga’s a lifesaver.’ The kick to the kidneys caught up with Tim. “I think I’m going to puke,” he declared.

Olga shoved a waste bin in front of his face. He hurled gratefully into the receptacle. “I’m going to be pissing blood for a few days,” realized Tim.

“Well,” said Olga, “at least you’re not dead.”

“Could someone tell me what the Hell just happened here?” inquired one of the agents. He was nudging one of the unconscious men on the floor.

Tim looked critically at the victims of Olga’s fierce retribution. “They look like the Black Slugs.”

“The Black Slugs,” said another agent incredulously.

“A Gotham mercenary team. They’ve tried to kidnap me several times,” clarified Tim.

“Gotham’s a weird ass town,” complained a different agent. “We don’t touch that with a ten foot pole. Any idea what they wanted?”

“Nah, but we’ve been having some issues with the folks down in Accounting today. It’s probably related.”

“Meeeh,” said Tony.

“Can someone get this man some medical attention?” asked Tim.

“You need some too,” said an inconveniently observant agent.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that Ma’am?” asked another.

Olga looked fierce. “My great-great-great grandmother was Amelia Peabody Emerson,” as though that explained everything. It did actually explain everything. “It would have been more impressive if I’d had a parasol though.”

Half an hour later, Tim was hiding out in the purple conference room sipping a bottle of Perrier. Olga joined him before he was even a quarter of the way through.

“How’d you know I was in trouble?”

“Doris sent me a text.”

“Ah.”

“Also, I was chatting with the Emily woman when Roberts got arrested. Perth looked rather murderous.”

“Oh.”

“And I knew that you wouldn’t be able to count on your superhero friend.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Ah.” There was a slightly uncomfortable silence. “Amelia Peabody was your ancestor? I thought you were from Slovakia.”

“Her grand-daughter decided that archeology in Eastern Europe was more her speed.”

“That makes sense.”

Olga toyed with Tim’s discarded bottle cap. “SHIELD wants me to work for them.”

Tim looked at her critically. “It would be a good fit. Especially considering the family history.”

“Definitely. I just wanted you to know. I’m not going to tell them anything about this whole thing.”

That was a significant weight off his shoulders. “Glad to hear it.”

“You can also tell your Red Robin friend that if needs anything he just needs to ask.”

“I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear it.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s been a pleasure working with you Timothy Drake-Wayne. Take me to lunch next week?”

“Of course.” Tim gave her a genuine smile.

“Good-afternoon.”

Olga left Tim contemplating his water. A sudden thought startled him out of his reverie. The girls! He sent Steph a quick text.

‘All good,” she wrote back. ‘The cell was pathetic. BB could have done it alone. Actually. I could have done it alone. Maybe even Spoiler. I dunno, but it was easy.’

‘See you at my apartment. Yeah?’

‘Sure thing dude.’

As Tim headed down to his car, he suddenly realized that he was exhausted. The whole day had been insane. He almost took out a couple of delivery scooters on his way back, but he got home in record time. As expected, there were four women watching cartoons in his living room and drinking green smoothies, but there was also a distinctly unconformable looking young man curled up defensively on the sofa beside Pru.

“Red, this is my nephew Kevin Walker. Kevin, this is Red.”

Tim studied his surprise guest carefully. “Is this the guy?”

“Yeah. It’s the guy.”

“He doesn’t fit the usual Hydra profile.”

“I didn’t realize what I was signing up for when I took the job,” Kevin said bitterly. “I thought it was a standard defense contractor. Once they started up the Nazi rhetoric, I was stuck.”

“I’ve got a friend who’s set up a new identity for you, if you want it.”

“Are you for real? I thought I’d have to turn state’s evidence or something.”

Tim cracked a smile. “Your old network got taken out kind of unofficially. There wasn’t really a state involved.”

“Oh. Awesome.”

“You can crash here for the night though. We’ll get everything straightened out tomorrow. I’m taking the day off work.”

“If you’re taking the day off work,” said Pru with a slightly evil grin, “you up for a spot of mischief?”

“Any day,” responded Tim.

“Hell yeah!” yelled Steph and Tam, high fiving.

Cass just looked expectant.

Two hours later, just as Tony Stark was preparing to go to bed at a reasonable time for once on his life, the lights in his penthouse shut off.

“Hello? Jarvis? Anyone there?”

“Mr. Stark,” said a gravelly voice from out of the shadows, “this is your annual check-up.” Prudence emerged dramatically from the darkness, semi-automatic on full display.

“Prudence?” asked Stark incredulously.

“I brought friends,” she stated, the ponderous syllables echoing around the apartment.

Red Robin, Black Bat, Batgirl, and Spoiler, in full regalia, dropped down to surround him.

“Are you evil?” demanded Black Bat.

“No,” whimpered Tony.

“Have you consumed any hard liquor in the past three hours?” asked Spoiler.

Under the fierce, unnatural glare of the white lenses staring back at him, Stark broke. “Yes. Um. Yeah.”

“Where is it?” she asked in a quiet sort of voice.

“Over there.” Tony pointed.

Spoiler stalked over to the full bar and looked around carefully. “Excellent taste!” she exclaimed. “But it looks like you’ve got a red in the fridge. That is unacceptable. I’ll be levying a fine.” She rescued the red and grabbed a bottle of perfectly chilled cava out of the offending cooler. “This’ll do. Do better in the future Mr. Stark. We’ll be watching.”

Black Bat made several crystal clear hand motions.

Tony gulped.

“Do not waste our time,” said Red Robin, voice flat and expressionless.

“We make powerful enemies,” intoned Batgirl vaulting up to the bar and then performing a perfectly executed triple twist flip off the end. “Very powerful.”

“We will drink your wine,” said Black Bat, “and enjoy every drop of it.”

“Think of that. Ponder it. Mediate on it. Consider it in full,” chanted Batgirl like some medieval monk. “We are always watching.”

Tony didn’t doubt it. He didn’t see what happened exactly, but one moment he was surrounded and the next second there was no one else in the room. The lights came on. There was no sign of forced entrance. “Jarvis?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Am I high?”

“No Sir. You are functioning normally.”

Tony stared unblinkingly out the window for several minutes before picking up the phone.

“Hey, Timothy?”

“Yeah?”

“You would not believe the night I just had.” He had to talk with someone unconnected with the whole thing. He needed an unbiased outside observer. Tim Drake would help him unravel the mystery of the bald lady and Red Robin. It was time to get to work.

**Author's Note:**

> The musical preferences expressed in this fic do not necessarily reflect the views of the author. Those will remain a tightly guarded secret.  
> Amelia Peabody, for those that don't recognize her, is the unparalleled protagonist in a lovely series by Elizabeth Peters set in the Victorian era. Officially she's an Egyptologist, but she tends to spend significant amounts of time investigating the mysterious crimes that keep occurring on her digs. She's an absolute menace with her steel enforced parasols.


End file.
